


The Price of Victory

by Stegosaur



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Brainwashing, M/M, Mind Control, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stegosaur/pseuds/Stegosaur
Summary: After a long and bloody civil war, the turtles and Triceraton rebels have finally deposed the fascist Emperor and his abusive regime. The cost is steep, however, and Raphael steps up to pay the price alone, much to the shock and dismay of those closest to him.





	1. Consequences of Regicide

     “I’ll stay.” Raphael stepped forward, chest pushed proudly forward and his head held high, the manacles around his wrists uncomfortably tight. His brothers almost immediately began protesting his decision, one made without their consultation or approval, one that would end his life and forever sever him from his family. He couldn’t bear to look back at them, even as the heavy thuds of batons and yelps of pain sent his brothers to their knees and silenced their cries. The Triceraton Emperor glowered down at him from the balcony, Royal Guards lining the walls of the room with weapons at the ready. He seemed to mull this over for a moment, as if expecting a sacrifice from their noble leader in blue.

     “You volunteer for this? Surely you are aware of the consequences you face, Earthling.” A few guards frowned knowingly, Raphael refusing to budge from his position other than to give a curt nod. “Your resistance and…ferocity, while admirable, will earn you a slow and painful death as a slave of the empire. Even cooperation will merely prolong your life, not enrich it. You still volunteer for such an existence?” Silence stretched between them, clearly shaking the Emperor’s nerves at such fiery pride.  “Would you rather not fight among yourselves for freedom? To find who among you is truly the weakest, the most deserving of servitude to those superior than himself?”

     “No. Like I said, I’ll stay. I volunteer as tribute to the empire, in exchange for the protection of my planet.” Raphael glanced back at his family, their bodies bruised and face stained with tears. “And the protection of my family. Forever.” The Emperor clicked his fingers as soon as Raphael finished, the guards dragging away his brothers as they struggled and screamed in protest. He never turned back, refusing to let his last memories of them be polluted any further. He wanted to remember them as they were, not as they are now.

     “So be it. You have the word of the Triceraton Empire that your world shall forever be protected, its inhabitants eternally guarded, and that no harm shall ever come to your family.” Another click of the Emperor’s fingers caused the gravity in Raphael’s manacles to sharply increase, dragging the turtle painfully down to his hands and knees. “As property of the Triceraton Empire, your old identity has no meaning or importance.” Two royal guards approached him on either side, and a heavy collar was sealed around his neck. He felt heat singe his skin as it was welded shut, forming a solid, unbroken loop of metal and technology around him. “Therefore, it shall be taken from you.”

     A blood curdling scream echoed throughout the chamber as Raphael crumpled to the ground, the guards flanking him looking panicked and confused. He couldn't see or hear the commotion of the chamber as the guards and Emperor demanded answers, only keep screaming in agony as searing flames consumed his mind and everything within it. "Why is he screaming?! This procedure is painless!" The Emperor shouted angrily as his Chief Scientist fussed hurriedly with his control pad, Raphael's screams filling the chamber.  "TURN IT OFF!"

     "I can't, my King! The collars work by taking a snapshot of every synapse, storing it, then erasing his memories! Stopping it now would fry every neuron in his body!" Raphael sobbed and shrieked as the burning intensified into the single worst pain of his life, completely indescribable. "He'll have to endure it, my King."  A Triceraton dressed in regal garb had pushed his way through the audience and down to the floor, two Royal Guards holding him back as he attempted to push through.  Raphael's screams began to fade only because his throat and voice box had torn from stress, flecks of blood splattering on the marble floor and across his mouth as they shifted to coughs and cries.  The Emperor and Scientist bickered and argued as the process continued unhindered, until Raphael's sobs ceased just as suddenly as they had started.

     A beat of silence canvassed the room as all eyes trained on the turtle from Earth, his body motionless on the ground. The regal-appearing Triceraton forcefully shoved the guards aside and stomped over to the turtle's side, taking a knee as he lifted Raphael's head and body up to cradle him.  The silence finally broke with a hushed whisper from the Emperor to the Chief Scientist, his tablet green and revealing that whatever had just put the turtle in such pain had been completed successfully.  The Emperor's brown hide was pale from distress, though he quickly regained his royal composure and stood from his throne.  "General Traximus, I do not recall inviting you down to the floor for these proceedings."  The Triceraton gently laid Raphael back down on the floor and rose to attention, bowing at his hips at a near ninety-degree angle in reverence to his King.  "At ease, General.  I understand you two have history, but you are still expected to show proper decorum in this palace."  General Trax rose from his bow and faced his Emperor, a cold look of anger on his face.  "That being said, I apologize.  To everyone.  I promised a disciplined regime of empathy and compassion, even for the worst offenders like this Earthling here.  I clearly failed you all in that regard today." Trax gave a curt nod and softened slightly, the mood returning to that of ongoing business, though with far less flippancy and routine than prior.  The Emperor nodded to the Chief Scientist, who in turn summoned the medical team to examine the new slave. The audience had broken out into hushed whispers of critique and approval alike, singing praises for their Emperor's humility, and critique of the Earthling's apparent weakness.  Trax's expression began to sour toward rage as the comments hit his ears, the Emperor quickly picking up on the impending storm and quickly shifting blame. "Chief Scientist Yarsk, explain to the crowd what went wrong."

     The pale green Triceraton jumped nervously as all eyes focused on him, adjusting the torso of his medical uniform and clearing his throat.  "Yes, well, it appears that R4-P1-1L, while of Earth origin, has a mixture of genetics we did not sufficiently account for in our preparatory scans.  Put simply, our systems expected a homosapien, which R4-P1-1L is not. The automated sequence must have failed to sufficiently plug his pain receptors prior to scan and deletion of his memories, hence the…" The scientist paused as the turtle groaned, the medical team tending to him giving the all clear as the subject regained consciousness.  "I failed to perform my due diligence prior to executing his sentence under Triceraton Penal Code, my Emperor, and caused the prisoner undue pain and suffering. That is the simple explanation." The crowd's disdain shifted from the turtle to the Chief Scientist, a raised hand from the Emperor hushing them once more.

     "Enough. You will be disciplined accordingly pending the results of an independent investigation by our Judicial Council, Chief Scientist Yarsk. This is not the Empire of old. We do not execute our prisoners, nor do we torture them, especially inadvertently.  Guards, please escort Mr. Yarsk to his quarters and place him under house arrest."  Yarsk did not complain or resist as two guards approached and led him away, the chaotic scenes of moments ago all but forgotten by the gathered crowd.  "General Traximus, is the slave awake?"

     "Yes, my Lord."

     "R4-P1-1L, rise." The turtle scrambled to his feet as if nothing had happened, the room around him alien, yet familiar. He was compelled to stand and face the source of the voice, those lovely words spoken by his Emperor, Great Leader of the Immortal Triceraton Empire, infallible Sovereign.  "State your name, crime, and sentence to this audience."

     The turtle's voice was incredibly hoarse, yet he still spoke with pride.  Any task assigned to him by his Emperor, no matter how trivial, must always be executed to the best of his ability.  "I am R4-P1-1L, guilty of committing high treason against the Triceraton Empire, and of regicide against the previous Great Emperor of the Triceraton Empire.  I have been sentenced to servitude to the crown and memory death."  R4-P1-1L could feel the Triceraton beside him grimace at those words, an appropriate reaction to his heinous crimes.  Had curiosity been permitted of one such as himself, he may have found such an expression from his own monarch even more puzzling.

     The Emperor pinched the bridge of his snout and sighed.  "That is correct, R4-P1-1L.  Deactivate sensory input." R4-P1-1L felt his entire world vanish, plunged into infinite, silent blackness.  The Emperor addressed the crowd, motioning to the vacant turtle.  "I take no joy in carrying out this sentence.  As we celebrate General Traximus for overthrowing the fascist monarch who plunged our noble race into galactic conflict, we also punish this turtle for supporting him in his campaign.  Our code of laws, however unfair, must be upheld until such time as they are amended by our elected Parliament.  Just as they say General Traximus must go free for his military service during the coup, they also say this Earthling must be sacrificed for the crimes of his family. These are the injustices I seek to overturn, but for this creature here, it is too late."  The crowd once again began to murmur, as General Trax squeezed his hands into fists, quivering angrily.  The gathered crowd had never seen one of these sessions before, yet Trax had, thousands of times over his service to the past Emperor.  Raphael's sacrifice would pour fuel on the simmering fires of rebellion, of this he was certain.  "General Traximus, you are an expert on these devices. Would you explain to the audience their function?" Trax nodded and bowed, his right arm pressed across his chest in a salute before taking the proverbial stage.

     A hologram of Trax and the turtle appeared above the floor to give a clearer view to the audience, as well as being broadcast to the gathered public audiences in the Courts throughout the Empire.  The Emperor had demanded transparency for the proceedings, to show the consequences of cowardice and apathy by the electorate, all a plan suggested by Trax and the turtle known as Donatello, a tactic the Earthlings had used following an outbreak of fascism on their world.  "Citizens of the Empire, we are all acquainted with this collar.  They denote our slaves, and we have always known that they provide a safeguard against violence from our slave caste, and ensure their obedience.  None of you, however, knew how."  The image zoomed in on the turtle's neck, Trax pointing  to the high vibration weld on its rear where a series of lights glowed.  "The collars, when applied, digitize the subject's entire brain. Memories, knowledge, experience are all collected, sampled, and analyzed.  Then they are completely destroyed."  The crowd had erupted into shocked anger, though a raised hand from Trax quieted them so he could continue.  "Useful information, such as walking, talking, listening, and trade skills are imprinted in an optimized fashion on the erased brain, followed by a base memory consisting of their identification number, crime, and sentence.  Depending on the crime, additional skills may be uploaded via terminal.  To my knowledge, 98% of our current stock of sex slaves utilize additional programming delivered in this manner."  It was growing harder to contain the anger of the crowd, which in turn hurried Trax along.  "Worse yet, these devices were routinely applied to political dissidents and opponents, as well as to inconvenient subjects of the Empire."

     "They committed no crimes!" A shout from the crowd interrupted his speech, and Trax acknowledged the claim openly.

     "Correct.  The past regime repeatedly used these devices to solve even the smallest of problems.  Given a lack of accurate records, it is impossible to determine who is really a criminal serving an accurate sentence, and who is merely a victim of the past regime's intimidation and exclusion tactics.  Even military personnel were routinely collared in this way during initial training." Gasps echoed from the gallery as images and records of said soldiers flashed across the hologram, almost all of whom were marked as K.I.A.  Trax didn't wait for this to sink in before he plunged the knife of his argument straight through their metaphorical hearts, the hologram of the turtle and his collar shifting to a simulated X-Ray view.  "The worst part, however, is its anti-tampering system.  The collar performs random, routine scans of the brain, and compares it to the neural map stored on file.  If it detects original memories or information, it will paralyze the slave, wipe the entire mind, and re-write the correct data.  This process has a fifteen percent mortality rate.  However, if the collar is physically tampered with…"  The view zoomed in on a circular sphere nestled just above the turtle's spine, a choked sob coming from some of the more well-informed of the crowd as few immediately recognized it.  "…an explosive device will detonate, severing the spinal column from the brain entirely.  Without the regulatory signals from the brain, respiratory and heart failure occur within seconds.  Death is painless and swift."

     "Remove his collar!"

     "Criminal scum!"

     "He's no villain!"

     Similar cries shrieked from the audience as the hologram disappeared from view, the Emperor sitting with his head in his hands while the gallery collectively vented at him.  Trax stood up straight, his stoic face turned toward the new monarch who was almost certainly trying to avoid sobbing himself.  Trax was grateful the remaining turtles weren't here to see this, that they had no idea what had happened to their brother.  More than that, however, he was immensely proud of Raphael's sacrifice on their behalf.  He'd warned the turtle what would happen, told him what this collar would do to him, and cautioned him what the Emperor would have to say next upon hearing the almost certain revolt from his people.

     "ENOUGH!" The Emperor rose from his throne and slammed his fists atop the balcony wall, a glint of tears in his red eyes.  "I hear your disapproval, and I agree with your anger!  These are terrible devices, which is why I had them all destroyed the second I'd heard of them!"  The Triceraton bellowed from his perch, Trax cracking a soft smile.  It was that righteous fury over injustice that sold him on the young man's capability as Emperor in the first place, and he was pleased to see that his confidence wasn't misplaced.  "But I cannot expect to have the support of the people if I do not follow the rules and laws which they have put in place.  I disagreed totally and completely with these heinous measures, and yet…the law was clear, and it must be followed.  While General Traximus was able to be immediately pardoned for his crimes against the Crown, these Earthlings were not, not until…"  The Emperor paused.  "…not until one of them had been punished for the crime committed.  So say our laws."

     "REMOVE HIS COLLAR!"

     "PARDON THE EARTHLING!"

     The crowd erupted yet again, the Royal Guard bracing for a full blown riot.  Trax knew it would not come to that, not here, but that there were surely crowds in the streets by now, demanding reform.  He suspected the Parliament members were already drafting changes to the laws governing these collars, and even if they weren't, they would have no choice shortly.

     "The collar…cannot be removed."  The Emperor's voice actually cracked, his strong façade creaking under pressure.  "The only key to remove them was held by the past Monarch, who destroyed it once his seat of power was secured.  It hasn't existed in over twenty years, and we have no idea how to safely recover it."  Trax stepped forward, interjecting on behalf of his King.

     "Please understand, our Emperor does not lie.  The collar does not contain an unlock code register until it is activated, and it will not activate unless secured to sentient, living beings.  Furthermore, you only have one chance to remove it with that key.  Should the incorrect key be presented, the collar's anti-tampering feature will activate immediately.  Put simply, it would be inhumane to try and brute force such a key using our slave population."  That was the final twist of the knife.  Even after Raphael had heard Trax tell him this, the turtle was still dead set on taking the burden alone, knowing it would likely never be undone.  The crowd was silent at those words, the implications clear: to remove the collar, to find that key, would almost certainly kill every single slave alive as they worked through the combinations.  The slave count numbered in the billions galaxy-wide, far fewer than the maximum number of possible combinations.

     It was an impossible task.  One Raphael was all too eager to accept.  Recalling the look of bravery on his lover's face made Trax's heart pang with loss, his knees wobble with weakness.  He turned to look at the turtle, still plunged into infinite black, blissfully ignorant of the revelations, and of his sacrifice.


	2. Secrets of Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their family shattered following the end of the war, the three brothers grieve at home in their own way. Michelangelo hopes to bring them together by revealing some of Raphael's secrets, but accidentally lights a dangerous fuse instead...

     None of them had slept since their return to Earth. Mikey sat in his room, sobbing day and night. Donatello had locked himself in his lab, trying to build a teleporter that could lock on to the signal used to beam them to Earth in the first place, albeit with no working knowledge of teleportation whatsoever. Leonardo, however, was probably faring the worst out of all of them. He had told Splinter via phone of Raphael’s sacrifice, and had been awake for three straight days alternating between katas and meditation, struggling to search for his brother in the astral plane.

     It was by chance Leo and Don crossed paths at the coffee pot on the fourth day, both irritable and inconsolable over the loss of Raphael. Michelangelo didn’t know what sparked the flames of argument between the two, only that he had been drawn in by the falsehoods they spat at each other as insults.

     “IT WASN’T HIS CHOICE TO MAKE! I AM THE LEADER!” Leonardo shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Master Splinter trained me to make that sacrifice, to get you all home safely! That should’ve been me! I failed as a brother, and I failed as your leader!” A hard slap across the face by Donatello made Leonardo recoil, Michelangelo chewing anxiously on the tail of his mask.

     “You don’t have to be the sacrificial lamb all the time, Leo! This is just who he was. He cared about all of us, and he cared about you most of all! He gave his life to save you, don’t you see that?!” The argument continued, Leonardo complaining and bargaining to take Raphael’s place, while Donatello struggled to explain that Leo bore no guilt in the choice made. “Look, as soon as I get this teleporter working, we’ll go back there and dismantle that entire government with our bare fucking hands if we have to. But I can’t solve an entire physics field of study while dealing with the grief of two people. Raphael is dead, Leo, so time isn’t exactly a factor in revenge.”

     “HE’S ALIVE! I know he is! I sense him every time I meditate, his fierce courage, his red hot anger…I know he’s alive, Donnie, I know it.”

     Michelangelo couldn’t stand it anymore. “You’re both right.” The two stopped and turned to face him, their eyes bloodshot and faces streaked with tears. Each of them grieved for their lost brother, yet neither knew the truth of the matter. “Raphael is dead, like Donnie says. But he’s, uh…he’s also still alive, kinda.”

     “Mikey, look, your zombie movie jokes aren’t exactly funny right now.” Leonardo’s words pierced his plastron like ice, but Michelangelo steeled himself.

     “I heard he and Trax talking the night before we were caught. About what was going to happen to us.” Leo and Donnie stared slack jawed at Michelangelo. “Dudes, you know they were boyfriends, right?”

     “Raph was…gay?” Donatello looked as shocked as Leo.

     “He was in love?”

     Michelangelo nodded. “Yeah. I mean, they were kindred souls. I thought you two knew that. That’s why Raph would sneak out at night, to go share Trax’s bed.” Mikey let a pleasant swoon come over him, the memory of Trax and Raph making out next to the campfire, an alien sky of stars and planets above them. They made the cutest couple.

     Leo’s shock slowly shifted to betrayal. “I…I had no idea. Did he-“ Mikey shook his head, immediately cutting off Leo’s stupid question.

     “No, bro, neither of them turned us in. Trax and Raph were talking after the end of the war, about the new Emperor. The guy was apparently a really good, fair, just ruler, according to Trax, but we had a problem with the law.”

     “How do you know all this?” Donatello asked with curious excitement, eager to peek into his brother’s secret life.

     “How do you think I know you and Leo practiced kissing that one time?” His brothers blushed beet red at the revelation of their one-time exploration, an experiment they set aside when pulled into the Triceraton revolution. “I fake a nightmare so I can be closer to you. I like the warmth and the company. Of course, I don’t always fall asleep right away.” The blush on his brothers faded, Donatello taking a seat at the empty dinner table while Leo continued to stand. “Anyway. Trax said he’d be fine, since he was in the military, and there was some ability for military members to be pardoned for certain crimes. Then he said that all protections for non-Trikes were taken away by the old Emperor. Basically, we were fucked.”

     Donatello offered a back handed compliment. “You sound like a lawyer, Mikey.” Michelangelo ignored it, focusing on recounting his memory of the events.

     “So Raph makes a proposal: he takes the fall in exchange for our freedom. He said if it was public, at least his death would show that even aliens were committed to upholding their laws, and may help keep the revolution going long enough to make law reforms and hold fair elections and stuff. Plus, we’d get protection by the new Empire, which is good.” Michelangelo’s face darkened, Leonardo raising his hand to interject.

     “You said he was alive, though. I know he is. What happened?” Mikey stared hard at his two brothers, not wanting to open Pandora’s box. It would be better if they accepted Raph was dead, he thought, but as long as Leo could sense Raph’s spirit, he’d likely never drop his argument that their brother still lived out there among the stars.

     “It’s hard to explain, but…Trax said Raph wouldn’t necessarily die. Apparently the old Empire was built on slave labor, creating a caste of slaves, a working caste, and a ruling caste. So to make sure there was always a steady supply of slaves, they had these…collars.” Donatello’s chair skidded across the floor as he leapt from it, staring down Michelangelo.

     “Shut up, Mikey.” Leo snapped toward Don with shock, mouth agape. “Leo, Raphael is dead. Trust me.”

     “Let Mikey finish, Don.” Donatello slammed his fist on the table at the rebuke, the wood crackling beneath his hand.

     “Raphael is dead. He is dead, and we can never get him back. You must accept this, Leo.” Leonardo scowled at Don, folding his arms across his chest and letting out a heated snarl. “Fine.”

     Michelangelo shifted his glance between Leo and Donnie with some degree of trepidation, wishing he could put the rabbit back in the hat and go back to grieving in peace. Leo’s expression said that wasn’t an option. “So, uhm, they had these collars. They would explode if you messed with them, and kill the wearer. But Trax said that wasn’t the worst part. He said…” Michelangelo paused, chewing anxiously on his mask again, trying to fight back the sobs of loss. “He said they erase your mind. Delete your memories. Then they reprogram you to be whatever slave they need.”

     “So he’s alive?” Leo sounded hopeful, a feeling Donatello immediately yanked out from under his brother’s feet and sending the weight of reality crashing down on them all again.

     “His body is alive. Raphael is dead. He doesn’t know our names, our faces, or even that he’s from Earth. He only knows whatever those monsters told him he knows, and deleted all the rest.” Don’s normal expression of sympathetic resolve had been replaced with almost genocidal levels of rage, coolly hidden behind a mask of calculating determination. “They murdered our brother, and billions of others. I will see their Empire burn by my own hands.”

     “Dude, I’m not done.” Michelangelo spoke up before Leo had a chance to lash out, frustrated with Don’s sudden personality shift. “Raph knew all that when he volunteered. Trax told him, remember? It’s also why I didn’t speak up.” Mikey lowered his head, sniffling back another sob. “I was too scared. Yet Raph knew. He knew he’d lose everything he ever knew and loved, even his family. Yet he still volunteered.”

     Donatello and Leonardo both fell silent, Leo slowly falling to the ground with quiet cries of despair. Don sat in his chair, eyes staring down at the floor. The true depth of Raph’s sacrifice had been revealed, their hot-headed brother giving up his life to protect their family without a second thought. Michelangelo had hoped this would quell some of the rage they shared, to put them back on the path to healing, to moving on without Raphael in their lives.

     His brothers did not share this idea.  "I'm going to kill them all." Donatello whispered, Leonardo staring his brother down.  "We sacrificed for years alongside them. We got caught up in a war that wasn't ours, and did what we had to in order to survive. Only the government we helped install, punished us for our assistance anyway." Don straightened up from his chair and snatched his coffee mug from the countertop, storming off to his lab.  Leonardo and Michelangelo cringed as the heavy metal door was slammed shut, Mikey looking at Leonardo for some sign of forgiveness.

     "Donnie is right."

     "NO HE ISN'T!" Mikey shouted, tears in his eyes.  "Yeah, it fucking sucks, and yeah, I miss Raph, but are you seriously saying Donnie is right in wanting to exterminate an entire race like that?!" Leonardo gave off an intense pressure of cold, Michelangelo's words frozen before reaching his ears.

     "We'll make them pay, Mikey. For taking away our brother." Leo left the kitchen and headed towards Donatello's lab, Michelangelo running back to his room and slamming his own door with every ounce of strength in his arms.  He wanted no part in this disservice to Raph's memory, even as the hole left behind by his absence ate and gnawed at his innocent and jovial soul.  As much as he wanted his crass and rude and strong brother back, what his remaining brothers were proposing was unconscionable, and something Splinter would almost certainly disapprove of.  Besides, even if Raphael was gone, his body lived on, with an entirely new life ahead of it.

     Michelangelo clutched a nearby plush tightly against him and sobbed into its soft hide, his cries of despair unnoticed or unheeded by his family.


End file.
